


All of the demons, I have fought, are slowly turning;

by lisswrites



Category: The Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:41:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisswrites/pseuds/lisswrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on Daryl's reaction to the events in 3x03</p>
            </blockquote>





	All of the demons, I have fought, are slowly turning;

 

The new car Daryl’d hot-wired and salvaged into being was being battered by the road leading up to the prison, mud flying across the windows, tires screeching as they rolled over what most have been the tenth walker in an hour.

Guns were already poking out of the guard tower as they approached; the unknown vehicle putting everyone one edge, he’d reckon.

 _’Bout time they took shit serious_.

After rolling to a stop at the gate, Daryl leapt out of the car, lithe and soundless as ever. If the crossbow wedged against his shoulder wasn’t enough to identify him, the rolling, surety to his gait was unmistakeable.

After holstering his weapon, Rick ran over to the car, passing the bags of medicine to Maggie with a grim nod.

The green jasper was getting tossed from one hand to another, the jagged piece of earth the only outward sign of the worry taking root in Daryl’s chest. Was good to see Rick, sure. ‘Least everyone were’nt sick. But it wasn’t Rick who met him after runs, weren’t Ricks hands who squeezed his shoulder in greeting.

Rick’s asking ‘bout any trouble and it figures; half the time it seemed to Dary like whatever trouble Rick was handling was never enough for’im. The man always had his palm open for more.

Daryl made a grunt, threw the jasper higher than before, deftly snatching it with his hand and slamming down against the side of his cargo pants in some sort of gesture of agitation. 

"Here ain’t I? Got the meds for everyone. Damn Hersehell’d been right ‘bout that ole dog pound in the end."

Rick’s nodding, “Guess you’re right.” His fingers drew the sunken sink of his cheeks tighter’n usual, trying to right himself.  He looked like shit if Daryl was bein’ honest.  Thing’s must’a been worse while they were gone.

Daryl’s eyes dragged across all the exits a’the prison, scouring for some trace of her. Her scarf, maybe. Or the grey hair he’d grown to like.

Rick rose himself up to full height, passed a hand through the sweat-tangled mess of his hair. Daryl immediately tensed up.

This was Officer Grimes, not Rick. Only time Grimes came out ta’play was when shit hit the fan.

"It don’t matter how many times you scan the yard, Daryl. She’s not here."

Something traveled down Daryl’s spine- stiflingly warm and charged enough to start a damn electrical fire.

"Fuck’ya mean, Rick?" The foot resting across the body of the car suddenly charged forward, propelling Daryl forward till he came almost nose to nose with figure before him.

"I  _know_  she ain’t dead. You wudn’t be talking’ like that if she were!” He scoffed a bit, remembering the first time he’d met the grizzled man in front of him. It had ended with his brother latched to a fuckin’ roof like a dog. Seemed like Rick’s bedside manner needed some brushing up.

"There’s no nice way to edge into this, Daryl. I’m just gonna tell you straight- you deserve that- Carol’s the one who killed Karen and David."

Rick’d expected fire, brimstone- something. But instead a sort of indecipherable mask had slid into place, Daryl’s face was granite.

"She in solitary or somthun’?" Rick shook his head in the negative, unsure if his voice would trigger whatever anger was lurking under the surface.

The silence did the trick well enough. 

Daryl had him pinned against the car in a matter of seconds- Rick may’ve been taller, but Daryl’s quickness and strength more than compensated.

"I ain’t asking you again Rick- where the  _fuck_  is she?”

Rick shut his eyes, air blowing out of his mouth a little in an effort to fortify his nerves.

"She couldn’t come back, Daryl. Tyreese’d killed the whole damned group before he’d let her get away with what she’d d-"

Daryl’s hand slammed by Rick’s head, once, twice. The force of it reverberating dully through the metal of the car body.

"We’re exiling people, now?" There was a winded chuckle without even an ounce of humor in it. Daryl’s finger jabbed, accusatorially, into Rick’s face, barely able to keep his anger within his grasp."Weren’t you’re decision to make Rick, an’ you know it."

His voice was deadly-low when he finally spoke, close enough that his breath washed across Rick’s face.

"Think it’s best you keep ta your beans fer awhile."

A piece of jasper fell into the road as Daryl trudged his way to the watchtower, dust settling on the green facets.

Ain’t no one to give it to anymore. 


End file.
